


Interview

by kc_evans



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Freedom for elves, Kirkwall, Pre-Relationship, Rioting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kc_evans/pseuds/kc_evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Semi-modern Thedas AU. Unbeta-ed.</p><p>It takes all of Inspector General Cullen Rutherford's wits and patience to interview the one woman who never offers a straight-forward answer and doesn't hesitate to turn the tables on him when it suits her needs. Questioning her not something he looks forward to, but someone has to find the culprit who keeps starting riots in the city.</p><p>Little does he realize <i>he's</i> being interviewed for a position in said woman's organization. After all, even rioters need a little help now and again. And who better than a disillusioned Templar?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interview

Cullen sighed as he approached the interrogation room, stopping in front of the scarred metal door with an uneasy pit in his stomach. He had interviewed this ‘guest’ countless of times before and each time, it never failed to leave him with a pulsating headache that lasted for hours. It wasn’t so much that he disliked her as he detested exercises in futility. And the person within the room not only pushed the boundaries of futility, but did so wearing a charming smile.

But Meredith wanted answers from the previous day’s rioting which resulted in minor damages to a nobleman’s fancy carriage. That incident rather than the restless mob, predictably, outraged the denizens of Hightown, demanding the Templars to make quick arrests. The dozen or so people Cullen had interviewed thus far all gave contradictory information, taking the opportunity to blame rivals or enemies. Running out of options and useful information, he finally resorted to the last thing he wanted to do - call in the worst troublemaker in Kirkwall. Either she knew who was behind the riot, or she was behind it herself. 

It did trouble Cullen to have his men bring her in to the station as if she had done something wrong; without concrete evidence against her, her compulsory presence nearly bordered on false imprisonment. But because she had agreed to come willingly, Cullen felt he could justify questioning her without too much backlash - at least until her barrister arrived. 

With no choice but to actually begin the interview, Cullen inhaled deeply, let it out through his nose, and prayed for extra patience before he turned the handle and walked in.

Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, youngest daughter of the sixth most important noble house in Ostwick, looked up and beamed at him. “Ah, Inspector General! It’s been a while.”

As the door swung silently shut behind him, Cullen dropped the four pound folder on the small, metal table and sat in the remaining chair. Despite the cheery greeting, Cullen felt a sharp pulse at his temples as his shoulders tensed in readiness. “Lady Trevelyan,” he returned in a level voice. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

“Oh, don’t be so reserved, Inspector. Let’s catch up first. I heard you actually used some of your leave last month. Where did you go on vacation?”

The problem with Lady Trevelyan, Cullen thought with a grim sigh, was that she was a baffling mixture of sly cunning and earnest kindness and the combination threw him off guard with far more success than he liked. Whenever Cullen interviewed her - which was often - she insisted on some genial chatting first before getting to the task of offering pleasant non-answers to his questions.

“Inspector?” she prompted, when he didn’t respond right away.

Cullen sighed, then mentally chided himself for doing so. It wasn’t professional to be so put-out, even if Lady Trevelyan didn’t always abide by the rules of what was proper and what wasn’t between an Inspector and his somewhat-voluntary-guest. “It wasn’t really a vacation,” he said at last. “I went to visit my parents. My father was sick.”

Instant sympathy clouded her eyes and she leaned forward, reaching out a hand as if to touch him, only it landed inches away from her file as if she changed her mind in mid-action. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is he better now?”

The sincere concern helped loosen the knot in Cullen’s stomach and he relented in giving up his grumpy mood. Whatever else Lady Trevelyan was, she was honest, sometimes brutally so, and easy to talk to. “He’s not completely well, but the healers say he will make it. It was his heart.” Cullen shook his head slightly to ward off the memories of gut-wrenching worry and holding vigils by his father’s bedside in the hospital. It had not been a restful time for him at all, but his mother’s relief and his father’s joy at seeing their oldest son had been worth the long trip.

Lady Trevelyan nodded. “That’s good. If you’d like, I know of an excellent heart and lung healer in Denerim. I could ask him to stop by South Reach and check on your father?”

Cullen shook his head even before she finished her last sentence. “I appreciate the offer, but that would be highly inappropriate, Lady Trevelyan. He’s already in good hands and my siblings will inform me of any changes in his health.”

She frowned and leaned back in her seat. Cullen had the sense that she seemed hurt and even disappointed, though he couldn’t fathom why. “Well, if you’re sure.”

Clearing his throat, Cullen decided it was time to get down to business. He folded his hands on top of the heavy file and leveled her with his best Inspector look. “Lady Trevelyan,” he began, “I have several reports that indicate you were present during the most recent elven riot. In fact, you were caught throwing the first stone. So to speak.”

The innocent-as-a-mabari look that Cullen had seen on her face a hundred times before appeared. “Well, as you know, Kirkwall is a rather large city and I enjoy exploring the many parts of it, even when there’s a mob gathered somewhere.”

“Parts like -” here, Cullen removed his hands and opened the file to pull out a grainy, black-and-white picture of her chatting with a few people. “The Alienage?”

“Is it a crime to go there?” she asked, raising her eyebrow without even looking at the photo.

“Of course not. But do you understand that if you were spotted in the Alienage the day before a riot broke out, and witnesses placed you as helping to start said riot …” Cullen pierced her with a look that he hoped would loosen her tongue into giving an actual response. “You can see my problem.”

But it remained wishful thinking as Lady Trevelyan didn’t seem horrified by the connection. “That is circumstantial evidence, Inspector, and you know it. Those witnesses might say I was there, and they might say I threw stones or whatever. But in case you didn’t notice, half of the city was also present. I could accuse anyone else of the same actions and produce three witness to corroborate my story.” She lifted a brow at him. “In fact, you were there yourself, weren’t you?”

Cullen exhaled slowly. As a noble, Lady Trevelyan was obviously educated, but her familiarity of the Kirkwall justice system was frighteningly accurate and even rivaled his own. Cullen’s knowledge came from years of studying and hard-earned experience which he knew helped his speedy promotion to second-in-command. If they weren’t on opposite sides of the law just then, he would have been interesting in asking her where she learned about torts and criminal law.

But he didn’t dare, especially not in the middle of an interview discussing her potential role in the previous day’s disturbance. So holding his curiosity at bay, Cullen simply said, “My presence at the riot is not in question here, Lady Trevelyan. Yours is.”

She leaned forward again, meeting his eyes with a sudden blaze of intensity that seemed uncharacteristic of her normally placid demeanor. “Tell me something, Inspector. Do you believe elves should be free?”

He frowned at the question, wondering if this was some sort of trick. “They are free.”

“Wrong. At best, they’re second-class citizens who have less rights than many others races do. How is that free?” Lady Trevelyan shook her head so hard that several locks of her hair escaped the careless bun wound behind her head. “We can say they’re not enslaved as they are in Tevinter, but to say they have the same rights as any other citizen of Kirkwall would be misleading and deceitful.”

Cullen tried to hide a grimace, hoping to steer the conversation away from the controversial topic. “It’s imperfect, of course, but you can’t change the system in one day. Or with continuous riots.”

Lady Trevelyan ignored the pointed last sentence as if she didn’t even hear him. “So you’re saying we shouldn’t even try?” she snapped, eyes narrowing.

He almost shifted under the weight of that pinning, disapproving stare. “That’s not what I meant,” Cullen protested.

She slapped her palm down on the table. “Then tell me, Inspector, how do you propose the elves change their situation? Petition the proper authorities and then get publicly derided in front of other shems? Or worse, be arrested and thrown into a moldy prison for fifty years, forgotten until even their bones turn to dust?”

Vaguely, Cullen wondered how Lady Trevelyan turned the tables on him yet again. Now he was on the defensive, trying to answer her questions without seeming like the bad guy or representing the department in a negative light. He admired her forceful personality because she was so obviously passionate about her views, but not when it was directed towards him. It was time to wrestle control back.

So Cullen cleared his throat and said firmly, “Lady Trevelyan, we are getting off-topic here. Right now, the rights of elves are not my concern. I simply want to know: were you at the riot yesterday, and did you attack Lord Breckon’s carriage?”

A brief frown crossed her face. She opened her mouth to answer but a bang on the door had both of them turning their head as it opened.

It was Mallory, one of Cullen’s subordinates who stuck his head in. “Inspector, I apologize for the intrusion, but Lady Trevelyan’s legal counsel is here and is demanding she be released immediately.” He coughed. “The term ‘illegal imprisonment’ was thrown around quite liberally.”

Cullen sighed, resisting the urge to rake his hand through his hair in frustration. He had hoped to have more time before Lady Trevelyan’s people got wind of where she was, but obviously someone wasted no time in running to her barrister. The moment was lost and he would never get the answers he needed from her now, not when she was protected by her counsel as well as her title. “Very well. Inform him that we will be out momentarily and that Lady Trevelyan is free to go.”

Mallory nodded and closed the door as he left. Cullen observed the noblewoman for a moment, realizing she didn’t look triumphant at being freed. In fact, she looked more tired than anything else, as if her mask slipped. Reminding himself it wasn’t his business to ask if something was wrong, Cullen cleared his throat and said, “Well, my lady, as you pointed out earlier, we cannot hold you on the circumstantial evidence we have. Thank you for coming in.”

At that, Trevelyan sat up and narrowed her eyes at him. “You never had any witnesses or hard evidence to begin with, did you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be letting me go so easily.”

Cullen didn’t bother to respond as he closed her file. As he stood up to go, she suddenly rose to her feet and grabbed his arm to keep him from moving.

Stunned at the physical contact, the first they’ve ever shared, he stared at the delicate hand, feeling the surprising latent strength in the grip before shifting his eyes upward. When Cullen met her gaze, Lady Trevelyan regarded him with a speculative look as if gauging him for a reaction as she spoke.

“So, now that I’m not your ‘guest’ anymore, Inspector, I want to know your opinion. Do you think these protests will do any good? Will it bring about change for the better?”

The heat of her hand seeped through his regulation cotton tunic and proved to distract him from her question. Only when the frank query registered in his brain did Cullen manage to say, “No. I think if these riots continue, the Marshal is going to march into the Alienage with soldiers and wipe them all out.”

Trevelyan said nothing for a long moment, though the fire in her eyes dimmed at his response. “I see,” she said softly. She let go of his wrist. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Meredith Stannard might resort to such harsh measures for ‘dirty elves’.”

Cullen wanted to defend his superior, he really did, but it was hard to do so when it possibly meant the death of thousands upon thousands of innocent people. Meredith’s actions sometimes bordered on erratic and he never knew what she would decide to do next. So Cullen remained silent on the subject as he gathered his folder to tuck it under one arm, pretending he wasn’t affected by the touch as much as he had been. Falling back on his usual professional pose, he only said, “Someone will guide you to your barrister, my lady. And may I remind you again to try to keep yourself clear of any troubles? I prefer not to see you here again.”

An emotion flashed through her eyes, so fast Cullen didn’t see what it was. But then Lady Trevelyan smiled and she slipped back into her old, easy-going self. “But Inspector, how else am I supposed to meet with you and continue our enlightening discussions?”

Shaking his head, Cullen said wryly, “I don’t consider our monthly ah, interviews an appropriate setting to talk about what’s on your mind. If you have a complaint or a matter you wish to discuss, you may make an appointment to see me. Breaking the law - and we both know you do more than your fair share - is not required.”

“Ah, Inspector, you really are as straitlaced as they come,” Lady Trevelyan said, but her tone held affection so he was only mildly insulted. “I suppose I’ll keep your suggestion in mind.”

Cullen nodded and offered a little bow before he headed towards the door. But when he opened it, she spoke again.

“I was serious about my offer of sending the heart specialist to your father, Cullen.”

He almost jerked at the sound of his name on her lips. In all their months of ‘interviews’ that developed an odd sort of bond between them, she had never spoken it. He had addressed Lady Trevelyan by her title and she had returned the favor, though saying his rank always came with a wealth of emotions. Sometimes it was exasperation, sometimes fondness, and sometimes annoyance.

But this, this was different. Cullen didn’t know what had changed between them that she would break their unspoken protocol, but it was enough to make him turn around and face her. “Lady Trevelyan,” he began.

And predictably, she interrupted him. “Evelyn. When we’re not adversaries, I’d prefer you call me by my given name.”

Simply having this conversation probably broke about fifty rules of fraternizing with suspects and Cullen had to tell her so. “I’m afraid I won’t …”

“Say it,” she said, cutting him off again with a flash of challenge in her eyes. “Or I’ll sit myself back down in this chair until my barrister comes barreling in and asks why I’m not halfway home by now. I’ll tell him I’m being kept here without provocation and he’ll raise such a fuss that you and Marshal Stannard will be called to the viscount for questioning.”

This time, Cullen couldn’t hide a noisy, impatient sigh that seemed to have no impact on her determination whatsoever. Imagining the mess that she could create and maintain with a little effort and some charm, he ground his teeth in response. “Evelyn, then,” he said at last.

That earned him a bright smile. “See? That wasn’t so difficult. I rather like my name and I hope you like it, too.” Then her expression sobered as she added, “But I do mean it about that healer. I’ll make sure no one can trace the request came from me, just in case there’s a question of misconduct. He’s your father, Cullen. Stop being stubborn and just say thank you.”

Cullen held her gaze for what seemed like the longest four seconds in his life. She smiled at him, kind and polite as always, but her jaw was set and he knew she was utterly serious. Why she would do such a thing for him when they were at each other’s throats half the time, Cullen couldn’t fathom, but he had been worried for his father’s health. His parents, always the picture of vitality and strength, suddenly seemed so frail and he wasn’t prepared to lose either one just yet.

His brain argued that he should decline and walk out of there because he knew she was probably manipulating him to accept her offer, but his mouth wouldn’t listen. “Thank you. Evelyn. That will ease my family’s concern. You can instruct the healer to send the bills to me directly.”

“Of course.” Evelyn looked at him for a long moment, mouth turned down as if she knew she had all but forced him to agree with her. “You’re a good son,” she said finally. “I mean, I’ve always known you were a decent man, but it’s obvious you care about your family too. That’s … well, that’s not something I see much in my circles. So I’m glad I can help in just a little way.”

Cullen nodded, already wondering if he would regret agreeing to this. But it was too late, and he didn’t have the heart to take it back, not when it meant better care for his father.

They might have continued to stare at each other for an inordinate amount of time, but Mallory came back down the hallway, looking a little flustered with reddened ears, as if somebody had thoroughly chewed him out. “Inspector! Lady Trevelyan’s barrister is asking if you’ve changed your mind about not charging her for a crime?”

They had been talking too long. Cullen frowned at his lack of professionalism that always seemed to happen when it involved Evelyn Trevelyan. “Ah, no. No, I’m not. She’s free to go.”

“Please tell my cousin I’ll be right out,” Evelyn added.

“Er, yes, my lady.” Mallory looked over at Cullen and waited for a nod before he headed back towards the waiting room.

This time, before Cullen could even think about leaving, Evelyn moved around until she faced him and blocked his exit out the door. “Just one last question before I go,” she said. “I promise.”

Cullen looked longingly past her shoulder to the corridor to where Mallory disappeared. The hallway represented safety and the end of yet another futile interview and the extremely strange interlude between them, but he couldn’t shove past Evelyn even if he wanted to. No doubt her annoying barrister would raise a fuss about brutality or disrespecting nobles or something equally ridiculous. “What?” he asked, more brusquely than he intended.

Evelyn didn’t seem to mind his curt tone and in fact leaned a little closer as if conspiring with him. “Why do you stay with the Templars when you don’t believe in their mission anymore?”

The question couldn’t have shocked Cullen more. “What?” he asked in disbelief.

“You don’t believe in their mission anymore,” she repeated. “Look, you’re a good, honest man and you deserve to work for an organization that has higher aspirations than maintaining the status quo which, by the way, isn’t working anymore. I can give you a new purpose that is for the betterment of all people. If you’re not disillusioned with the Templars yet, you will be.”

Cullen was struck by the finality of her last sentence. It echoed in his mind and burrowed deep into his heart. He was already halfway there in his doubt, questioning how much longer he could stay with the Templars and somehow, Evelyn figured it out when no one, not even Meredith, had. “How,” he began.

Raising a finger to his lips to silence him, Evelyn leaned inward even more, on her toes, to speak softly in his ear. “Come join us. I’ll wait for you as long as I need to. When you’re ready to leave the Templars, when you need something else to believe in, look me up. I promise, you’ll find a greater purpose with us, and more.”

And before Cullen could react to the hot breath tickling his ear with those tempting words, Evelyn gave him one last smile, removed her finger from his mouth and strode down the hallway that she had walked dozens of times before.

Cullen watched her leave, eyes falling on the hypnotic sway of her hips. His lips still tingled where she had touched him, the warmth of her skin lingering even though the heat must have dissipated by now. Cullen remembered the clear blue of her eyes staring at him, watching him as if she was calculating three moves ahead like a chess match. Evelyn wasn’t afraid to use all her weapons: charm, wit, intelligence, and the ability to read people like an open book.

If Cullen were smart, he would ask to be assigned off her case permanently. It wouldn’t be so hard. Meredith knew as well as he did that no noble in Kirkwall would ever be prosecuted of a minor crime, and most especially not the youngest daughter of the sixth most important family in Ostwick who had deep trade ties with the city. The duties of formally ‘interviewing’ Lady Trevelyan could be easily taken care of a subordinate, like Mallory. Although, Cullen thought with a bit of rueful pride, Evelyn would probably chew him up and spit him out within five minutes.

But, despite all the good reasons to do so, Cullen knew he wouldn’t step away. Whether he was already caught into her web deeper than he realized, or whether he instinctively knew only he could handle her, Cullen wasn’t going to reassign someone else to take over. And Evelyn would continue to come, if only now to convince him to leave the Templars. Cullen knew it deep down inside, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the temptation to throw the last thirteen-odd years of his life away for a supposed new purpose. 

Sighing at the mess he found himself in, Cullen shook his head and headed back to his office to type up the report on the interview. It was a mere formality because he didn’t learn anything new from Evelyn, but it was required and he would do it and add it to her file. As he always did. His duty, every day, all the time.

Perhaps it was time to sit down and re-examine his motives and reasons to stay or go after all. And even though he shouldn’t, Cullen knew he would be thinking about what Evelyn said for a long while.

*****

Evelyn climbed into the carriage after Dorian and sighed in relief as she sank into the plush cushion. “Maker, I’m so glad that’s over with,” she said with a half groan. Dealing with the Inspector General always drained her energy and sometimes left her feeling stupefied under his probing gaze and sharp mind.

The carriage was already occupied with two women who sat across from them. “How was the interview? Will he join us?” the first one asked.

“It went rather well. He’s thinking about it. I could see the cogs turning in his head.” Evelyn leaned her head back, staring above their heads for a long minute as the carriage jerked into motion. “It won’t be long now.”

Dorian, who played Evelyn’s barrister, snorted. “Isn’t that what you’ve been saying for the past few months? Seems like a waste of time waiting on this one person who might or might not make that leap of faith.”

“We’ve been over this, Dorian. We need him,” Evelyn said. “We’ve got one shot at this, and we can’t mess it up. Cullen will be instrumental in helping us win. All the players have to be in place before we can successfully counterattack, you know this.”

“Are you certain he’s the right one?” the second woman asked, brows drawn down into a slight frown.

Evelyn nodded, more convinced than ever after their last interview. “He’s the one. Give it a little more time. He’ll come around.” Cullen’s obvious concern for his family as well as his strict moral code left no doubt in her mind he was perfect for the position she had deliberately left open for him.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Cullen’s eyes widening when she touched him, skin on skin, the spark that surprised him as much as it did her. Evelyn rubbed her finger absently, tucking away the memory to examine at another time in private. Forcing her thoughts back to the present, to what needed to be done in preparation for Cullen’s arrival, she smiled at all three people in the carriage. “It’s only a matter of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a prequel to a long fic that may or may not get written. It's gotten so convoluted in my head that it'll take forever to figure everything out. However, I may continue writing stand-alone fics in this world.


End file.
